THE PASSING SHOW.

Auckland Star, Volume LIX, Issue 176, 27 July 1928, Page 6

THE PASSING SHOW.

(By THE MAN ABOUT TOWN.) AN ALL-ROUND ATHLETE. Oh, Herbert was a famous chap r»iot many years ago, athl ete was Herbert, too. He d sire all games a go. A rep. footballer eke was he, A splendid mid-weight pug. He'd throw the hammer skilfully And hundredweights could lug. '®U° we d (T W manlv game, Golf, polo, tennis, hockey, He knew the names of every horse And every leading jockey. He walked and ran and jumped like mad, He dreamed of sport at night, And since last January he Has nothing talked but fight. His wife is keen on Heenev, too (Because Bert is so keen), .?5 U listen-in, dear Bert?" she said. t, sreat fight, I mean." But Herbert said, "I can't, my dear,** Ana then in accents low can't, for I must go To the Canary Show."

Exchanges of unhappy phrases often occur between newcomers and the New Zealand-born, the blood tie, being apparently temporarily for-

gotten, and the pioneers BLOOD BROTHERS, not remembered. Thus a

New Zealander and a new arrival verbally clashed a day or two since. Said the colonial to the other: "Why don't you 'Pommies' stay at Home? You come out here and we've got to keep you." Said the "Pommie" to the local product: " 'Keep us* is right, I don't think! You owe the Old Dart so much money that we 'Pommies' come out to get a bit of our own back." Aren't these blood relatives naughty? Makes one think of the simple poet who remarked that dogs delight to bark and bite but that it does not become children of one family to fall out and chide and fight. Peace, little ones!

There is a considerable difference between the way in which masters treat servants. For instance, Earl Haig, who left a fortune of

nearly £190,000, made a FAITHFUL bequest to his soldier serSERVICE. vant, who had been in his

service for thirty years, of fifty pounds, but revoked it in a codicil. Here is another view of the worth of a batman; When 3LO took over the broadcasting station at Adelaide and 3AR, Melbourne, Major Condor didn't forget old friends. Lewis, the Major's batman overseas, was switched over to take charge of 3AR. It is merely the point of view. A duke dining in a swell tuckery may leave the obsequious man with the towel a perfectly good shilling under the plate, conceiving that he has done his duty, but the American millionaire following the duke may conceivably reward the same waiter with twenty times as much. Perhaps Earl Haig's batman was more of a servant than a pal. Not even a few shares in the family distillery! I While we stand gloomily on the wharves and watch the immigrant come ashore to ruin us, and while we take railway journeys through I almost empty country, Sir ROOM FOR James Gunson tells us MILLIONS, that there is room for millions more people in this country! Quaint thing how opinions differ. Scotland, for instance, is a country with merely about three times the population of New Zealand, and the Scot loves his fine land so much that he goes to the farthest parts of the earth, sticks up statues of Rabbie Burrrns and talks of his empty country for the rest of his life. Ireland, immensely fertile, is another old country relatively empty and from which our relatives pour in persistent streams to the Dominions and the Americas, where the language is understood and the police forces yawn for them. New Zealand, which often pretends that the place can't bear another relative, apparently hardly ever thinks of almost equally small countries like Japan, where sixty millions or so share the rice and seem to thrive, or a tiny country like Java, where about forty millions cultivate even the strips between tiny farms and sing like birds, and manage to squeeze joy out of a crowded life. The idea that a few more relatives more or less are going to ruin Maoriland reminds one of the fearful day some years ago when the five million people of a great continent (Australia) kicked up a dreadful noise because six hatters landed from Home and started their nefarious business of making hats. We do not think in numbers. Or perhaps we think in too large numbers. For instance, there is the undoubted story of the young lady, who, returning from an Auckland football match] mentioned casually that there were upwards of a million people on the ground.

_ The Frenchman has a jibe at the English: "It's a fine day; let's go out and kill something." Apparently this national trait is well grafted into the being of RASA AVIS. the New Zealander. A southern wire mentions that a boy, seeing a bird strange to New Zealand, immediately killed it, much, apparently, to the satisfaction of ornithologists, who treasure birds so greatly and stuff them and stick them in museums.* The report that an albino blackbird has been seen will cause potential slayers to oil their guns and get after him. It occurs to one that if rarities are better dead, the average New Zealander (who is the world's finest wiper-out of rarities, including volcanic cones) might go gunning for human specimens. We frequently have Individuals of strange races land in this countrv, and never, under any circumstances, kill them and stick them in smelly museums. Not lon™ since there came to New Zealand as a servant on a ship a native of the Himalayas. No one thought of having him stuffed as a specimen for the war museum. Then, again, an Indian ayah with jewels in her face was an object of intense curiosity to Queen Street people. This lady has escaped, and there is no hope for a New Zealand taxidermist. One remembers an Eskimo licensed victualler! Although ho was clearly a rarity, not a single collector shot him, and, as far as one knows he is still unstuffed. Only occasionally does an African pigmy obscure the scenery of New Zealand. Yet rare specimens like this remain unshot, unstuffed and unsung. Statesmen who compliment the citizen who kills a rara avis mijrht by precept and example extend this amiahle trait in our youths and lay the foundation for a magnificent assortment'of the genus homo in our intellectual feeding grounds.

I CHAOTICS. Of course, you immediately found the solution of yesterday's effort: Sentmuseam Amusements. The various puzzlers sent in bv "M.R.K." are good enough to excuse a further one from him: Merepiphsir. THOUGHTS FOR TO-DAY. If solid happiness we prize. Within our breast this jewel lies And they are fools who roam; The world has nothing to bestow From our own selves our jovs 'must flow And that dear hut, our home. —Cotton*. • • • Rest Is not quitting the busv careerRest is the fitting of self to one's sphere. ... —Goethe. Write it on your heart that every dav is the best day in the year.—Emerson. • • • Thank God for the smilers in the world. Amy le Feuvre.